love from her who has risked so much to save you from sorrow and shame. Conduct mate the dressing—room and don’t leave me with that insolent there. " - She put her delicate glove ups upon the thunderstruck poet’s arm, and, with as much haughtiness as if she was six feet in flight, she I sailed from the room, followed as closely as ' her grand train would permit, by her unwel- como attendant. _ ,, , In the dressing-room they found Maiblume in a state of dense bewilderment, who, frlgld- ly ignoring Stanley’s presence, received Coils in her arms, whispering tremalously: “ Do you Mr. Wylie can have brought bad unwed—~02 George?” . “ Scarcelyi” said the little lady, writhmg away her. “B’ut‘wait, my sister; you shall soon héar your Coils belied. Meanwhile a Still tongue is the best.” They drove away together in Mr. Verne‘s carriage, the messenger on the box beside the coachman. A servant led them to one of the smaller parlors where thig found two gen— tlemcn patiently awaiting eir appearance. These were no other than) our old acquaintance, Mr. Falcon, the solicitor, and Mr. Wylie, the artist. As the others clustered round these gentle men, Coila’s dark eyes traveled about the ‘ room and fixed themselves suspiciously upon _ the closed folding-doors which separated the next parlor. from this. _ She approached with rapid and noiseless step and was about to sweep them apart, when Wylie’s long fingers closed on hers like a steel tra . “mey don’t leave us, dear Miss De Vouse,” said he, hismalicions eyes rolling in ecstasy. ‘1 I’ll take ofi your wraps myself if you’ll only consent to stay.” They all turned and looked at him with as ionishment, as he led her, quiet and unresist- ing, to a sofa at the other end of the room, and took an arm~chair close beside her. Mr Falc‘n kept smiling aifably, but in the meanwhile his piercing eyes were taking is: every item of her appearance. The ladies threw aside their wraps in silence —-.\Ir. Verne and Mr. Stanley standing by per- fectly nonplused. When all were seated, Mr. Falcon alone standing in an Obsequious attitude, and pre facing his remarks with a deprecatory little bow and cough, he said: “This is rat-her a disagreeable business,'la— dies arid gentlemen, but the best way is to get through with it as quickly as possible. I am the lawyer who drew up the late Mrs. Stan- ley‘s will; Mr. Stanley will remember how surprised I was at its disappearance. I knew by the contents that the late Mrs. Stanley could not have destroyed it herself, and, in fact, I vowed that I would find out the mys— tery if it took me ten years to do it. I never was so affronted in my life,” said Mr. Falcon casting a look of meek reproach upon Mr. Stanley, “ as when my word was doubted and I couldn’t prove it true. I kept worrying my head about that affair, but couldn’t neglect my business to follow it up. At last I thought. of lVylie here, an old chum of mine, who had spoiled the best detective ever born with eagle’s eyes, by taming artist, and as I knew he was ordered by his physicians to idle about for a year, and that he had an uncommon rel- ish for solving a mystery, I went to 'him and just told him all about it, and he promised to run the thing down by way of wholesome pastime, and, to oblige an old friend. This, ladies and gentlemen, iv. all I‘ve got to do with the business. Wylie will now tell his experi- ence.” Mr. Falcon retired modestly to a chair which he placed directly in front of the fold lug-doors, nodv'iug and smiling to his obliging ,friend to proceed. Before he had opened his mouth, Coila’s white face, encircled by an aureole of glinting- and glittering gems, bent closer to his, while her little hot hand stole into his. “Monsieur,” muttered she, in a voice inau- dible to all the others, “you do not break your word to me, do you? There are still twu days. n g g “All rightl” drawled he, its his usual dis- tinct tones; “ I ain’t the one tq betray the in~ accent.” She sunk back, closing her eyes. "My story may be interesting," began he, glancing toward the group across the apart ment with more of respectful seriousness than he had over yet shown, “but I dare say it. won’t be an agreeable one for all parties. We must take the good with the bad, however, and be thankful that guilt has such a trick of peep log out from under its vail, however cleverly » drawn around it. Having got hold Of Fal— con’s case, the first thing I did was to look up the pro-histories of all parties concerned. To be candid, Mr. Stanley was the one Falcon and I were most apt to suspect of having de— stroyed the will, for he was the only one who seemed to have a motive, and his life I took the liberty of sifting pretty thoroughly. My dear sir, don’t be affronted; you’ll thank me afterward that I did so. , Findingmothing to go upon in that direction, I did the same by Mr. George Louie’s, and discovered such a character as—Jerusaleml But that don’t come in here.” Stanley cast a quick glance, toward Mr. Verne, a smile of triumph wreathing his thin lip, but the author only lowered his eyes filled with anxious pain. Maiblume, perhaps sgeing for the first time the cause of her presence be- ing reduired, rose unsteadily, and creeping to her father, took refuge behind his chair, her face bowed down on its tall back. Mr. Wylie’s eyes glistened; he emitted a sniff pregnant with unimaginable significance and resumed his narrative: , “Finding nothing. to the purpose on, that took either, I vcntcred to put my sacri7egious finger into one of the ladies’ pies-41) fact, to furnish myself with the charming biography of Mademoiselle Coils De Vouse.” ‘ Stanley scowled like a thunder cloud, and striding across the room took his place by Coila’s side. a . “ Take care, sir,” said he; “ you’re on dan~ gerous ground!" , . “ All rightl” drawled Mr. Wylie; “ I’ll go . over it as fast as possible.” Coils. turned to Stanley with a look of an‘ _ . geh'c suffering and patience. 7 ~" Let him speak l” sighed she. “He will ruin poor Coils, with all she holds dear on earth, but he cannot rob her of the sweet . thought that she has sacrificed herself for love of them!" - “ From certain suspicious trifies in her life Withhir’s. Stanley,” said Mr. Wylie, chuckling and W1): his. palms together as if he held be?th them some very precious secret; “ I thought it best to take a trip to France to pur— sue my inquiries. At first I went on a wild 5 core chose to the Pension at St. Omar, where iss De Vouse claimed to have got her educa- tion, but the sisters assured me they had never , had a pupil of that name there, nor could'they recognize her photograph-a very excellent one, by Barony, which I had taken the liberty of abstracting from the late Mrs. Stanley’s a1 bum. I was certame stumped there; and wandered about among the Paris photograph era for some weeks without the smallest suc- cess. One day I saw an advertisement in a. paper which set me thinking in a new track. It was by one of those chaps who profess to make people over again-that is, to turn out from his establishment as fair young creator of sixteen who entered a grizzly griffin of fifty. The French women are so desperately afraid of old age. (and no wonder, for they make about the homeliest old witches you could see ‘ out of a mommy‘s cued—that these artistic establishments are much patronized, and really turn out very good wmk. I took the trouble to post myself in the thing, and, having paid my char—woman, a parts ct Medusa, to consent to the transformation, I took her to Monsieur Gorget and had her operated upon in my presence. Well, he gave her a new face. new neck, new arms, and the loveliest crop of black curls I ever saw; be filled out her sunk- en cheeks; he put in the teeth she wanted; he gave her glossy, arched eyebrOws——hers were re 1, and coarse as a cocoanut’s fiber—he paint— edout her parchment hide by painting on a porcelain complexion with delicate veins that would have deceived the very Old Boy; as to her neck and arms, actual skeletons in their way, since mere paint could not fatten them, he covered them over with air inflated rubber of the finest texture, which so exquisitely imi- tated real warm flesh that even by the touch you could not detect the fraud. All this was done for the moderate sum of five hundred francs! My char-woman returned home with me such 3. Venus that her own children did not. recognize her, and, like any other princess 01 supernatural beauty, she was terribly incon ver’enc d by her transformation, until I found a. place for her in a glove bazar, where she at tracted all the gentlemen, and is now doing a flourishing business. After this experiment. instead of haunting the photographers’ galler- ies, I haunted the establishments devoted to this branch of art, and diligently showing my picture of Mademoiselle De Vouse, had the beatitude of at last meeting the potent gem’ whose wand had givarf‘ her the charms you now see and admire.” At this point a half— shriek broke from Coila: there was a swish of rent satin and a flash of lurid drapery, as, with clenched hand, she struck Mark! the face. ‘ “ Wretchl Thou liestl Thou liestl" cried she, wildly. “ Messieurs, I’m insulted! Do you stand by and see me ins:'-lted?”——-turning to the others in passionate appeal. “ 0h misere, what black conspiracy is this! Will no one stab this base bound to the heart?” No one moved; horror and amazement set upon every face but the lawyer’s and the art ist’s; they only interchanged a grin of mall c'ors triumph. , “ Sit down, madam,” said Stanley, in a strange voice; ‘* let us hear the end of this man’s tale.” __. She put a sudden forced constraint upon her- self; she approached him, her hands out, her most dependent, her most seductive manner in full play. ' . “ Save me, Monsieur Paul!” said she, in thrilling tones. “ You who have won my promise to be“ your wife, protect me from thesa insults; upon your chivalry \ I cast myself. monsieur. I shall not plead my helplessness. in vain, I know.” 'She drooped before him, white and sweet. her toilette of brilliant dves and glancing gems. only bringingout her pathetic manmr and trembling helplessness into strong relief. She had appealed to the man’s chivalry, and his chivalry awoke at her word. ‘ I H? rose, drew her hand through his arm and haughtily faced the rest. “ Mademoisclle De Vouse has indeed prom- lead to be my wife, and under these circum» stances I refuse to allow Mr. W’ylie to utter another syllable to her discredit.” Mr. Verne, who had involuntarily started forward with a confused idea of comforting and protecting her in her distress, stopped in stupefaction, his hands to his temples. looking from one to the other. ‘ Maiblume, too, lifting her bending figure, flashed a keen glance of dawning mistrust at the little siren. Mr. Falcon broke the silence: o“ I believe I had the honor of telling Mr. Stanley in the outset that this affair could not be agreeable to all parties concerned; and I hope he will allow us to proceed with the dis- closure of the imposition which has been prac» ticed upon himself and Mr. Verne, especially when he learns that it is indissolubly connect- ed with the late Mrs. Stanley’s secret, and with the disappearance of her will. ’2 Stanley flushed darkly, then grew ashy pale. He looked at Coils. in a sort of fascinw tionnirre‘solution in his shrinking eye. She made one mad effort to assert her pow— er; she put her small lily hands upon his shoul- der, and leaning there, with dainty forehead almost touching his lips, moaned: “ If you give me up, Paul, I die at your feet! T enez garde I” ' He disengaged himself; he took her by the chilly finger tips and resented her. “ I have a right to hear this story,” said he, in a voice that struck like death to her heart. “If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear.” ‘ She cowered down, and crossing her arms on her knees, rested her .. ghastly face upon them. (To be contiande in No. 318.) WATCHING. BY BARTON GREY. He loltored up through the meadow, His foot in the trailing swath; He stopped wgen: the keen scythe’s blade bad case , And p ncked the aftermath. And Oh, love! and ab, level And what shall my sad heart say! What bold prayer breathe by night, love, It durst not breathe by day? She sat by .the open window, Looking unto the west: And the sun went down, and the stars came up Beyond the gra bill's crest. And oh, love! an ab, level And when will his footsteps fall? The skies are empt and barren, love. But God is over a ll A etc on the garden walk, A s adow under the stars, And the moon’s first gleam slides sudden through . The twillght’s jealous bars. And oh, love! and ab. love! * And open, love. to me! My heart is knocking at thy door, . Ah, lift the latch and see! A Sioux Squaw’s Devotion. or me. a. Banana, JR. TWENTY years ago, no name was more pop- ular, or better knownmif weexcept Kit Car— son—along the western frontier, than that of Cross Eagle. I have heard "‘ old stagers” dwell upon his exploits by the hour, and if all they averted was the truth, then Cross Eagle must have been no ordinary man. Still, allow— ing for exaggeration, there is little doubt but that Crom Eagle was a brave, daring man. perfectly trained in the arts of savage war fare, as master of his weapons, insensible to personal danger. It is the closing chapter of his life that 1 transcribe here, only promising that the story is well authenticated, and may be taken as truthful. ‘ - Cross Eagle, as his Sioux allies named him was a Swede who had spent three—fourths of his life among the Blackfeet, Cheyennes, and Sioux, he being captured by a band of Chey- ennes when he was but little over ten years oi age. The lad exhibited a courage unusual in one so young, and fought side by side with his father, who was a teamster belonging to the train, shooting down at least one warrior in the final charge. A chief noticed this, and took the lad prisoner, resolved to adopt him as a son. This he did; for a dozen years the Swede—who had forgetten his own name-— lived with the Choyennes, but then ran away and joined the Blackfeet. He soon led a war. party against the Sioux, when his ferocious daring gained from that tribe the name of Cross Eagle, by which he was known until the day of his death. Though long a partisan leader, Cross Eagle was never known to lift hand against those of his owncolcr—his hand was never stained with white blood. A strange I'Iicident led to his leaving the Blackfeet and joining hands with his 016 enemies, the Sioux. This occurred during a. raid of the Blackfeet, after horse and slralps into that Section of country . lair:— ed by Wahpadootab, or Red Leaf, the Sioux. The, Blackfeet, with their charac— ieristic contempt for the "cut-throats," bold- ly charged upon Red Leat’s village in 0;:- en day. Their forces nearly equal, the Sioux fought bravely, though somewhat hampered by their women and children. "Among the foremost charged Cross Eagle. together with his brother,“ Dogssoldiers.” A: be cut down a stalwart Sioux, Cross Eagle heard a shrill shriek, and saw the blood-drip ping tomahawk of a Blackfoot overhanging the head of a squaw, whose beauty, despite the fact that terror d storth her features, made r. strange impression upon the heart of th: Swede. He shouted for the brave to hold his hand, and spurred forward. The Blackfoot, p0:- sibly mistaking his meaning, drew back his hand to deal the fatal blow. Cross Eagls clutched at his arm, forgetting the knife that hung to his wrist. His fingers slipped and his- hand struck with full force upon the knife hilt. driving the sharppointed blade to the ve‘z'y hilt in the Blackfoot’s breast. With a wilc. death-yell, the savage dropped from the sad- die. But his yell was heard, and unfortunately the fallen brave was one of the Dog-soldiers. each of whom has sworn faithfully to avenge the death of their brothers. It mattered nothi ing that Cross Eagle was one of the band. From that instant he was a doomed man. Uttering their rallying cry, the Dog~soldien charged upon the Swede, who saw that no mer cy awaited him. One glance at the still kneel- ing Sioux squaw‘ decided his course. He raised his voice, but now it filled the air with the Sioux war-cry, instead of the Blackfoot. And, bending his bow, he shot down two of the leading Dog—soldiers in... rapid succession This not saved, his life f,‘ , Red Leaf, who had recognized the voice 0 3 favorite squaw, and was rushing to her aid. As the bow-~ string twanged sharply, his blood-stained bat» tie—axe was raised above the head of Cross Eagle. But be withheld his hand when he saw that Cross Eagle was fighting his battle. It was a long, desperate, and bloody con-d test, and no brave distinguished himself more highly than did Cross Eagle, who now fought side by side with Red Leaf. Enough that the Sioux were the victors, and, instead of shear- ing, the Blackfeet returned home shorn. Cross Eagle was formally adopted into the Sioux tribe, but his chagrin was great when he discovered that the squaw, for whom he had dared so much, was the wife of Read Leaf. For nearly a year he worked earnestly, none the less so because he knew that secret wishes of Dowansa, or the “ Singer,” were with him. to collect a store of horses, goods and arms, with which he hoped to buy his love from Red Leaf. Yet it was only tohave his offer rudely scorned, though the amount he offered would have bought any other ten squaws in the tribe. -Red Leaf was no common Indian, and really loved his wife. ‘ Had Crosa Eagle succeeded, nothing would have been thought of the “business transac tion‘,” but as he failed, Red Leaf called a coun— cil and “ pulled the wires ” so successfully that Cross Eagle was declared no true Sioux, anc ordered to depart, under penalty of death if ever caught in their territory afterward. This was hard lines, but he had sense enough to know that it would only make bad worse to kick against the pricks. SO he mount» ed his warvhorse -—-it had been confiscated with the rest of his property, but Red Leaf did not think it politic to press him too hardly. and so Cross Eagle rode out of the Sioux vile lags, not once casting a glance toward the lodge door where a pair of bright black eyes were sorrowfully watching him. Cross Eagle struck up into the Foot Hills, where he cached for a couple of weeks, know- ing that he could effect nothing so long as the village would be jealously watched. Yet he never once swerved from the purpose he had in view. His foot upon the trail, he would never turn back. until his object was accom— plished. And he had sworn that Dowansa should be his wife, even though he had to steal her from the very arms of her chief. He knew, too, that Dowansa would be watch- ing for him, since he had whispered this vow in her car when he learned that the council had been summoned to try him. So he pa— tiently waited until the time should be ripe for his venture. Two weeks after his public disgrace, Croat: Eagle left his retreat and returned to the Sioux village. Concealing his horse in the timber, be advanced upon foot, trusting to his thorough knowledge of the ground and his command of the Sioux tongue, to carry him r clear of discovery, though the night was bright and cloudless. Yet he was not to enter the village without some trouble. While passing cautiously through the scat-- toting timber that surrounded the village, a dusky figure suddenly arose before him, from behind a clump of bushes. The guard recog— nized Cross Eagle, and uttered a little cry of wonder; but the warning yell that rose to his lips never found utterance. A single leap carried Cross Eagle to his side, and while one sinewy hand tightly compressed the throat, a long knife was buried hilt~deep above the col- lat—bone, the point penetrating the Sioux's heart. A single gasping gurng convulsive quiver-4nd then the massive limbs were for- ever stilled in death. After a moment’s thought, Cross Eagle don- ned the dead brave’s plumed head-dress and blanket, then boldly entered the village, though he knew that, if observed, he would be censured for abandoning his post. Choosing the darkest trails. Cross Eagle soon reached the lodge of Red Leaf, before which glowed a bed of coals. Passing the door, be cast a swift glance within. A strange thrill crept over . him, as‘he recognized the figure of the Singer, and alone. Truly fortune was favoring him. Passing on into the shadow, Cross Eagle softly breathed the well-known signal, and :11 most immediately Dowansa came to the en- trance. A single repetition and the two were enfolded in each other’s arms. Cross Eagle did. not have to use much persuasion; the Singer was ready to fulfill her pledge. Red Leaf was even then in the village, and might return at any moment to his lodge. ‘Dowansa begged Cross Eagletohasten back at once to his horse, and there await her coming: but to this he would not consent. He feared she would be intercepted. And 80, one hand clasping hers while the other held a ready weap- on, Cross Eagle led the way back by the trail he had come, over the dead brave, safely Ewellng the thicket where his horse was bid— en. ' But at that moment a shrill wailing sound broke the air; ’twas the death wail of the Sioux! The murdered guard had been discov~ cred. Knowing that only in immediate flight lay their hopes of essays. Cross Eagle leaped into the saddle, the Singer mounted behind him, and then they darted away over the rolling prairie. But fortune no longer stood their friend. A Sioux brave discovered them and gave the alarm. Before one minute elapsed two hun— dred warriors were speeding along upon their trail, well mounted, thirsting for blood. Gaining the next swell, Cross Eagle glanced back, his eyas flashing fire, his bronzrd cheek paling, but not with fear. He saw that the ‘pursuérs were spreading out upon both sides, to guard against his doubling upon them in the night; Oh! for a cloud—a storm —anything but that clear sky, decked with stars shining with such pitiless brilliancy! But that was not to be. Speed and bottom alone must tell the tale. And for the first firm in his life Cross Eagle began to doubt his horse—a. noble, fearless animal. Yet now he was doubly loaded; that fact must tell upon his muscles in the end. ‘ On. sped the- noble black—«m came the re- lentless pursuers, no longer yelling; all was si~ lence save for the rapid thundering of beef strokes upon the elastic turf. On, thus for hours. On, until the black changes to white with sweat and foam On, until scarce a score of pursuers remain within sight; but now they fairly hold their own. The gallam black steed is doing his best; he will give his: life for his master, but there is a limit to all things. The double weight is ~ telling upon him more and more. Cross Eagle can feel the great heart thumping violently against his legs. He knows that the end is near—that soon his brave horse must sink beneath this cruel trial. And the relentless Sioux thunder on, plying cruel quirt and knife—point to urge their jaded animals to a higher speed. And in the cast a gray light" glows, the stars begin to pale; tuft this comes too late to avail aught. "'Dowansa,” hoarscly uttered Cross Eagle, “I will stop and let you down. Thus your life will be saved, at least!” 7 “ NO, they would kill me. Red Leaf threat» ened that, if I ever met you again, he would kill me with his own hand.” “ Then we will die together—they- can’t separate us in the Spirit Landi” and Cross Eagle’s voice rung with a wild exuitation. “ Yes-we will be together then. Give me your knife that: I may strike a blow for you— and then die with you,” quietly added the Sioux squaw, removing the weapon fromCross Eagle’s belt. “Sec—the iimber yonder—we will reach that. Then we will sell our lives dearly! If the horse will only last till then—1’ “ He will-with only one to carry—Cross Eagle—kiss me once—J am dying!" faintly murmured the Singer, her head sinking upon the Swade’s shoulder, while the hot blood satu- rated ‘his thin garb. With a cry of horror, Cross Eagle turned his head, just in time to catch the falling form of the squaw. The hot life-blood was spurt~ ing from her bosom. She had firmly pressed the long blade home to her cwz; heart. “Let me fall,” she murmured, gaspingly. “Then you can escape—#the horse will carry one—I did it to save you I” Feebl y lifting her head, Dowansa touched her lips to his; then her head sunk with a. soft sigh. She was dead. v Like one in a dream Cross Eagle pressed her to his heart. He could not realize the dread truth. Then, with a feeble groan, the gal lant horse paused, the blood gushing from his nostrils. Then he sunk heavily to the ground. He was dead—his great heart had broken. A yell Of exultationcame from the pursuv ing Sioux. ‘ This mused Cram Eagle, and he caught up his rifle, bearing Dowansa to the now near timber. , The Sioux dashed on; but Red Leaf never reached the timber. He fell dead from his. horse, shot through the brain. His braves dashed on. Two pistol-shots followed in rapid succession, and two more lives were added to the price Cross Eagle demanded for his life. Then he leaped out into their midst, knife and hatchet in hand. The braves shrunk from before him, plying their deadly arrows. Cross Eagle fell, literally riddled. Yelling triumphantly the surviving Sioux dashed forward to claim his scalp. As they stooped over the prostrate form Cross Eagle arose and dealt two more blows; his hatchet and his knife. ‘ , It was the last spasm of life. The three forms fel together, mingling their life’s blood. The tr edy was ended. The huge, drastic, griplug. sickening pills, con- structed of crude, coarse and bulky ingredients, are fast being superseded by Dr. Plerce's Pleasant Pur- gative Pellets, or Sugar-Coated, Concentrated Root and Herbal Juice, Anti-Billous Granules—the “ Lit- tle Giant " cathartic or Multum in Porno Physio. Modern Chemical Science enables Dr. Pierce to ex- tract from the juices of the most valuable roots and herbs their active medicinal principles, which, when worked into little Pellets or Granules, scarce- ly larger than mustard seed, render each little Pellet as active and powerful as a large pill, while they are much more palatable and pleasant in of— feet. Ds, IRA A. Trans, of Baccnsburg, Ohio, writes: “ I regard your Pellets as the best remedy for the conditions for which you prescribe them of any- thing I have ever used, so mild and certain in of feet, and leaving the have in an excellent condi- tion. It seems to me they must take the place of all other cathartic pills and medicines.” LYON & MACOEBER, druggists, Vermillion, D. 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